by Liz de Jager
Megan draws me away to where a table of refreshments stands. She pours me a goblet of something rich and herby and pours one for herself.
‘What exactly is Marc talking about?’ I ask Megan, trying not to let my voice rise in panic. ‘It sounds like you guys know far more than we do about this whole thing. Fill me in.’
‘What we know is this,’ she says, keeping her voice low. ‘Aelfric’s younger brother, Eadric, is the head of a – what do you call it? Like a doomsday cult, okay? They believe Aelfric’s brought the kingdom of Alba low, having the Fae hide from humans and not taking their rightful place in the order of things. The Fae are superior to humans in every way, or so they say. The Fae have magic, they have longevity, they are immune to a lot of diseases that humanity has succumbed to over the years. They are the stronger race. This is what they believe completely. They also believe that by bringing back the Elder Gods, who will remake the world into the place it once was, they will once more rule the world.’
‘And what happens to the humans? To us?’
‘Those few left that they allow to live will work to do their bidding. As slaves.’
I want to laugh. It is absurd, as insane a plan and unfeasible as any Bond villain’s mad idea I’ve seen on TV.
‘Are you serious?’
‘Like a bad case of death,’ she says, taking my goblet away from me and refilling it.
‘But it’s crazy.’
‘That’s Eadric for you,’ she says, watching her two brothers still arguing. ‘They’ve been at each other’s throats since we got here,’ she says. ‘We tracked the thing killing the livestock in the area. It was a bloody griffin, can you believe it? It got loose from its pen and its caretaker’s not been able to lure it back. We came across Aelfric and his lot within hours of getting here and we’ve not been able to leave. It’s been a nightmare. The gateway is controlled by those sorcerers you saw when you were coming in. No one comes or goes without strict checks and permissions. More and more wounded Fae are coming through too with soldiers returning from Alba and Aelfric’s letting them all in. We’ve been getting reports on Eadric’s war bands going round Alba. They are trying to convert more of the Fae to their cause.’ She looks serious. ‘Things aren’t good, at all.’
‘Has Aelfric considered asking for external help?’ I say, watching the two boys do their best to keep their voices low. ‘How about getting in touch with the guys from the Spook Squad?’
Megan shakes her head, frustrated. ‘No, we’ve tried to convince him. Aelfric is insisting that he’ll be able to contain all of this. He’s been in touch with my dad and so Mum and Dad both know that we’re here. They’re working with Aelfric to get some of the New World Fae ready to assist in Alba.’
‘So your dad’s okay with you being a prisoner here?’ I challenge her. ‘Because no matter how we try to spin it, that’s what this is. Even if Aelfric’s using you to help him scout Alba.’
‘I don’t think Dad knows that we’re not allowed to leave. Marc was with Aelfric when they spoke. Dad had this mirror on him that connected him to Aelfric so Marc could see and hear what they were saying and doing. Dad is monumentally pissed off that Aelfric kept all of this from him. He sent us here to check out cattle mutilations, thinking one of the local ogre tribes was getting a bit overzealous, but instead we found a deposed king and his army.’
I try to contain my anger. ‘Do you know you have a traitor in the camp?’
‘What are you talking about?’ Marc says, turning to me, somehow managing to argue with Kyle and keep an ear on my conversation with Megan.
I sigh and rub my face. ‘When we went to the trolls for information this guy was there, Ioric Brightwing. He tried to kill me and convince Thorn to go away with him.’ I hold up my hand for silence under their sudden barrage of questions. ‘But he didn’t do it on purpose, or rather, not out of free will. Someone with really strong magic got to him.’ I tell them what happened in the troll cave and watch them pale. ‘Whoever this sorcerer is, he made Ioric kill himself in front of us. It was horrible.’
I sit back and watch them digest this. I sip the awful wine of which Megan seems so fond. I miss coffee and may have to break out of the camp to go and buy some, even if it gets me thrown into whatever prison camp Aelfric has set aside for deserters.
‘And no clue who this person is?’ Kyle asks me. ‘Brightwing couldn’t tell you at all?’
‘No. He tried.’ I gesture to my throat. ‘Every time he tried to speak about the guy his throat closed up.’
‘But he told you where Aelfric’s camp could be found? Just like that?’ Marc is scathing. ‘He could have been lying through his teeth!’
‘But why?’ I ask him. ‘He – not Ioric, but this other guy – definitely wanted us here otherwise he would have stopped Ioric from telling us that too.’
‘If he attacks the camp, he kills everyone.’ Kyle walks towards the tent flap and quickly checks we’re still unobserved. ‘If this guy, whoever he is, knows Thorn is here, along with all of Aelfric’s council and his sons, it means they can take out the camp in a massive attack. They can basically win this war right here.’
‘But does he want to kill everyone?’ I ask Kyle. ‘In the caves he tried to make Thorn go with him, but Thorn refused.’
‘So it has something to do with your boyfriend?’ Megan asks me and I give her dead eyes for calling Thorn that.
‘I don’t know!’ I grind out, annoyed. ‘It feels like I know nothing and it’s driving me nuts. Can I resign from the family yet?’ I ask, feeling miserable.
Kyle walks over to me and folds me into a hug, dropping a kiss on my temple. ‘Dude, you look like shit,’ he says, ignoring Marc’s frown at the swear word. ‘When did you last have a decent night’s sleep?’
I prod a finger in his chest. ‘Look who’s talking, dude.’
We all take a few seconds to compose ourselves before Marc leans forward, wincing as he jars his arm.
‘This is what we know: Eadric’s gathered together a huge, and I mean huge, army. He drove Aelfric from the Citadel and captured one of his sons, I think he’s called Kieran? So Aelfric escapes here, to safety, and Eadric sends him a message: join with me or Alba will be destroyed in the coming raising of the Elder Gods. Aelfric sends a messenger back and tells his baby brother to go get knotted.’ Marc sits up. ‘Shenanigans ensue.’
I close my eyes. ‘So, these Elder Gods?’ My question is addressed to Kyle because if there’s anyone who knows, it will be him. He loves myths and legends and has this funky eidetic memory that freaks me out. ‘How bad are they, exactly?’
‘Pretty bad. You know the flood myths we have the world over?’
‘Like in the Bible,’ Megan adds helpfully, trying to hide her smile. When Kyle’s got the floor explaining something he loves the attention and goes all out.
‘Yes, but remember that these stories can be found everywhere, literally all across the world. Every story agrees on the flood – masses of water with lots of people dying. But behind that story is one about humans and Fae working together for the first time in their short history. They come together in an act of desperation and work together to banish the Elder Gods. Thousands of Fae and humans were dying to appease the bloodlust of the gods. Eventually, someone figured out how to banish them through a ritual that would lock these bad boys away for all eternity. But what no one took into consideration was the effect this Sundering would have on our world. We had the physical manifestation of it in the shape of a flood, but far less noticed, at first, was the splitting of the world into the seen and unseen world. When it became apparent what was happening, the Fae chose to move into the Otherwhere and the humans stayed here, in the Frontier.’
‘So, in other words, we tore our world apart to get rid of these gods. And they were very bad gods, right?’ I say, just to be clear. ‘Not just messing around and having funsies with their adoring followers but truly wicked and vile?’
‘They were so bad that their own dedicat
ed followers led a revolt against them.’ Olga pushes her way into the tent, startling us. She’s wet from the constant rain outside but she seems healthier than I’ve seen her look since we met up a few days ago. Her limp is also far less pronounced. In fact, curiously, I’ve never seen her look more alive. ‘I was worried that I’d managed to miss you guys somehow,’ she says, smiling at Marc and Kyle. ‘This camp of Aelfric’s is huge.’ She nods her thanks at Kyle as he hands her a spare stool and drags it so that she forms a circle with us. ‘The Elder Gods were truly wicked, demanding more sacrifices, more debauched rituals as time went on. As fear spread, as more people prayed to them, their power grew and grew. Their followers exulted in doing their every bidding. There was a scale of genocide the new world has yet to see. Clans and families were slaughtered to a babe. Tribes and nations fell by the wayside.’
‘You speak as if you were there,’ Kyle says, reminding me that Olga’s not entirely human and far older than she looks. But I somehow doubt that she is old enough to have seen the world be reborn. ‘Not that I’m implying anything by it!’
Olga’s eyes glint mysteriously as she leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. ‘I know I’m an older woman, Kyle, but how old do you think I am? As a witch I age slowly but not that slowly.’ Her grin is infectious and I give a short laugh, unable not to laugh a little at Kyle, who looks mortified. ‘But, it’s a valid question.’ She holds her hands open and I swear I can see a mini Earth swirl between her hands for a moment before she flicks her fingers as if she’s shaking water from them and the glamour disappears. ‘My real grandfather was there, though. So was my great-grandfather and I grew up with them telling me these stories about the gods and the followers who turned their backs on them. When they both died, Adena Kassan adopted me and I was raised by her and her grandfather, Emory Kassan. I’ve mostly lived on earth and in this plane for the past five hundred years or so.’
I work hard at it and my jaw doesn’t drop. I take another look at Olga and wonder how anyone that old can look as young as she does without their eyes betraying them. Even Thorn’s mum, as stunning as she is, shows her real age in her eyes.
‘So, listen,’ Olga says earnestly, dropping her voice, and we lean closer. ‘I’ve been talking to Aelfric about his next step. One of his foresters reported a lot of activity around the Great Sister Lake.’ Olga waves her hand. ‘That’s in Russia, somewhere. Uhm, Lake Baikal, I think? And so in the morning he’s taking his army and attacking. From Eadric’s movements, we think that whatever is going to happen is happening there. Aelfric’s got his sorcerers working their magics now to open a portal to take his army to the shores of the lake. He’s preparing to send an emissary to the Perun to ask permission to send his army across.’
I raise my eyebrows in question at the unusual word and Kyle quickly fills me in. ‘The Perun is the leader of the Free Fae in Russia.’
‘Is there anything special about this lake?’ I ask Olga. ‘Why is Eadric bothering with it?’
‘It is possibly the oldest lake in the world,’ Kyle cuts in. ‘It means that if they open the portal to bring the Elder Gods through, the lake will be able to absorb the overflow of magic they’ll be using. And it’s deep – deep enough to hold the Elder Gods as they once again grow accustomed to being here.’
Olga’s nodding in agreement. ‘Yes, to everything Kyle’s just said. Something else to consider, though, is that the lake in the Otherwhere also holds the temple ruins where the Elder Gods were sent to their prison. The place is called Black Island.’ When she sees our blank looks she shakes her head mournfully. ‘How do you not know this? What do they teach you in school these days?’
‘Not obscure mythology, that’s for sure,’ I mutter under my breath.
‘Excuse me?’ There’s a tapping at the tent flap and a young squire pops his head into the tent. ‘Miss Blackhart? The engineer’s asking to see you. Something about one of your designs for the repeater crossbow . . . ?’ His voice trails off uncertainly.
Megan sighs and stands up, giving me a quick hug. ‘Don’t disappear,’ she tells me. ‘I’ll be back in a bit.’ She grabs her coat. ‘Kyle, come with me so you can talk materials and labour at them.’
Surprised, I watch them leave and turn my gaze to Marc. ‘What was that?’
‘Your cousin,’ he says, his voice telling me that he’s somehow divorced himself from his twin, ‘has been having the time of her life designing weapons. She has the generals eating out of her hand. The engineers are ready to declare her a saint.’ He considers his words. ‘I’m not sure if there are Fae saints, but if there were, she’d be canonized.’ Marc sighs and gingerly moves from sitting to horizontal, stretching out on his bed.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask him, pushing the dark curls from his forehead. ‘You’re not looking too sexy.’
His lips twist up in a smile. ‘Thanks, I’m not feeling too sexy. My arm is killing me and my leg feels like it’s on fire.’
Olga frowns at him. ‘Have you had Aelfric’s physicians look at you? They are very well trained in healing.’
‘I’m not letting any of them touch me with their creepy magic,’ he says, sounding far younger than his actual twenty years. ‘I’ve seen what they do to the prisoners they bring back from Alba. I don’t want to be subjected to that.’
‘I’ve been given my own tent,’ Olga says. ‘My pack and all my medicine is there. Do you want me to take a look?’
‘She fixed my arm,’ I tell him. ‘She’s good people, Marc.’
He narrows his eyes at us both and nods. ‘Okay, I’ll come with. But first we go to Aelfric’s tent and sit in on his council of war. The guy is a nutjob and he’s going to get a lot of his people killed. Then you can fix my arm.’
Olga’s eyebrows rise in surprise. ‘Fair enough. But remember to be careful what you say about Aelfric, Marc. You can’t be sure who’s listening.’
I help Marc stand but Olga easily shifts her weight under his arm and supports him. ‘Just lean on me,’ she says. ‘I’m stronger than I look.’
I pull my hoodie over my head and squelch through the rain. Even the wooden boards laid down to prevent feet from getting too wet have warped and sunk into the mud. We’re halfway to the main tent when I realize why I feel so vulnerable. I left my sword behind and it’s so unlike me, I swear under my breath impatiently at my absentmindedness.
‘I left my sword,’ I say. ‘I’ll see you guys in a few seconds.’
I dash back and strap it to my back. I check my knife and wonder about my pistols but it’s so wet out, even if I get them loaded with dry powder, the chances are that they wouldn’t fire. I tuck them under Megan’s bedding before I jog out again.
It’s not raining as hard any more and I slow my jog to a brisk walk. There are soldiers in armour everywhere, and I take the chance to observe them. Although it’s wet and cold, everyone seems in positive spirits. There are a lot of smiles and nods in my direction which I’m happy to return, but I can’t help but wonder who here is the turncoat and why they could possibly want the return of these Elder Gods.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Magic – humans: Very few humans are born with magic or any type of magical ability. Please note that by this we exclude people who have the ability to cast spells – spells are recipes that, if followed correctly, and with the correct intent, can be made to work by the most talentless practitioner. Humans who have a noticeable magical ability are anomalies. Genetic research shows that somewhere in the human’s family tree there had been congress with a Fae creature, which is, of course, forbidden by the Fae themselves. It is advised to treat such humans with great care as their magic can be benign or flare up and cause great disaster (see Hindenburg Disaster 1937).
From an archived report filed in HMDSDI HQ, 1978
The guards outside the main tent see me coming and uncross their spears to allow me to enter. Stepping into Aelfric’s tent makes me shiver in relief. Far warmer than the outside, it’s dry and comfortable, but
it’s also full to capacity. Marc looks up from where he’s standing with Olga and three muscular Viking types of extraordinary handsomeness. These have to be Thorn’s brothers, I decide. It’s not difficult to recognize him in them. They are bent over a pile of maps and look super-intense and serious so I don’t walk over to introduce myself.
Olga’s in deep conversation with Dina, who is listening intently. I catch Dina’s eye and she gives me a brief nod, which I take to mean that although I’m not her favourite person in the world, she’s okay with me being here.
I move past groups talking and it’s interesting to note that their clothes are a mixture of modern – contemporary jeans and coats – and medieval tunics and hose. They have friendly smiles for me, and I get the impression they all know who I am, yet I have no clue who they are.
I make my way to the pile of cushions and sink down with a grateful sigh. I want nothing more than to curl up on a bed and sleep for a week but I suspect it won’t be possible.
Then I spot Thorn and Istvan a few paces away. They’re standing close together and Thorn is listening to the older man. Istvan is serious and his gestures emphatic. Thorn’s nodding intently and I wonder what exactly they’re discussing that’s captured their attention so entirely.
The storm outside’s grown in force again and the lights cast by the lamps flutter wildly, casting peculiar shadows in the tent. One of the shadows unfurls from the darkness and curls sinuously up and around Istvan, resting across his shoulders. He shrugs and the shadow disappears as quickly as it appeared.
Did I really just see that? My heart jumps in fright.
I shift so I can watch them and my movement draws Istvan’s attention. I don’t turn towards them directly, instead watching out of the corner of my eye. I’m reluctant to call my magic forth to spy on them, so this will have to do. I catch the look Istvan gives me, which feels like a punch in the gut. It’s not friendly or curious or anything normal. It’s the look a dog with a bone gives when he wants you to back away if you like having fingers. His eyes are dark in the shifting light of the tent and whereas I had thought him handsome, I now see something almost feral in his features.